


Dreadful Pennies

by MagicQuill42



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Frankenstein (Mary Shelley), Dracula Influence/References, Jekyll and Hyde, M/M, Misuse of Science, Slow Burn, Sometimes a family is two brothers and one's stitched-together-from-body-parts son, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicQuill42/pseuds/MagicQuill42
Summary: Logan was born on a dark and stormy night. And from there it all went downhill. In his three months of life only his father and uncle haven’t treated him with scorn. If only his father hadn’t thought of taking a vacation to visit distant family members, then maybe Logan could have gone even longer without finding out how strange and dark the world really is…
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dr. Emile Picani, Logic | Logan Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. Prelude...

“Remus I swear to all things holy you had better tell me what you’re up to or I’ll-”

“Patience, patience, brother mind,” Remus threw a grin at him. “It is a virtue, after all.”

Roman scoffed. “As if you have any room at all to talk. You’d light yourself on fire if you thought it would produce sufficient results. And with only waiting a moment to ask for another volunteer, too.”

Remus stuck his tongue out, cheeky grin never fading as he pulled Roman into his lab. “Perhaps, but that’s irrelevant. For you see, dear brother, what I’ve been working on puts everything else in this institution to shame! The studies of bloodletting, of heating, even the studies of electricity! All of them are rubbish compared to what I’ve accomplished! Absolute garbage!” 

Roman arched a delicate brow. “Is this at all like the time you tried to power the summer house using garbage?”

“Nothing at all like it!” Remus laughed. “No no, this is something far more spectacular! Mostly due to the fact that this worked. You see brother mine-”

Remus came to a halt in front of the door, grabbing both of Roman’s wrists in his hands and looking him full in the face, manic grin against cool trepidation. He glanced momentarily to either side, as if ensuring that no one would overhear. 

“I’ve created life,” Remus whispered reverently, voice hushed and husky from what was no doubt mania and delusion. “The very spark of it. The thing the gods- if there are any- have kept from man from so long. And I’ve found it.”

“Wait you-” Roman shook his head. “You have a child?? Remus I hardly think-”

Remus pressed his hand firm against Roman’s mouth, giving him a good taste of the iron and chemicals that had been on it within the last week. 

He rolled his eyes irritably. “Not at all what I meant. I mean that I’ve made it. Literally. I have fashioned new life from old ones. Constructed it perfectly using only the finest parts.” 

“Parts?” Roman felt himself grow pale. 

Remus’ manic grin returned. “See for yourself. I’m rather proud of him.”

Roman gulped. His brother stepped aside, letting him push the door open and walk into the room. At first there seemed nothing amiss. It was sorely lacking in an open window, but it looked like any other lab, though granted- due to the nature of it being Remus’ lab it was much messier than the labs of their esteemed family members. However the only thing at all peculiar was the overly large lump of sheets on the table. 

And then the lump began to move.

It stood, up and up and up until it was towering three feet above Roman and peering down at him through horrible, horrific eyes.

“Good gracious,” Roman said, voice faint. “Remus Eli Frankenstien… What have you done?”


	2. Vacation

“Cat.” 

“Catastrophic.”

“In a sentence?”

“The fire caused a catastrophic amount of damage.”

“Excellent. How about… Miss?”

“Misdirection.” 

“In a sentence?”

“…The work of a magician is the art of misdirection.”

Roman chuckled and closed the book laying on his lap. “You’ve been reading about that Houdini fellow again, haven’t you?”

Logan hunched his shoulders shyly. “Father leaves them lying about… and they’re vastly more entertaining than Paradise Lost or Shakespeare.”

“Well you’re more than entitled to your entertainment,” Roman chuckled again and rose to shelve the book. “Though perhaps it’s high time we moved along from classics. Your reading is coming along quite nicely, so I think we can afford to ease up on the regimen. Not that your Father cares one way or the other about it, heaven help him.”

Logan rose to his full eight feet and carefully crossed to shelve his own book. Roman ducked in order to avoid his large arm clocking him in the forehead. Again.

“I would enjoy that,” Logan said. “Being able to pick my readings would also be nice.”

“You’re just lucky that I haven’t a head for math,” Roman joked. “If I did, you’d be having quite a few more lessons from me.”

Logan’s head tilted. “Why is it that Father doesn’t teach me? Surely he has got the… ‘head’ for such subjects as math and sciences.”

“He does,” Roman sighed. “But if he had his way you would have no sense of decorum whatsoever so forgive me for being reluctant to hand any part of your learning over to him.”

“Well you’ll pardon me if I don’t find the sense in fork and spoon placement!” Remus shouted from across the small apartment, busy working on something or other. 

“I will not pardon you very much at all for neglecting your son’s education!” Roman huffed.

Logan snickered. “Don’t be too cross with him, Uncle. After all, he did make me with the-”

“Finest parts and organs a man could possibly harvest, yes yes I know,” Roman finished for him. “And what a mess he’s c-”

“Created for you to clean up.” Logan finished wryly.

Roman squinted up at him. “It would seem we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Hardly shocking,” Remus quipped. “You do tend to rant, brother mine.”

Roman rolled his eyes and marched over to Remus. “Just because I know how to fight with my words doesn’t mean that I am ranting! Quite the contrary! As a poet and novelist I am simply… rehearsing. Re-orchestrating the argument we’ve already had in order to perfect it.”

Remus raised his protective goggles just to roll his eyes. “Oh of course. My mistake. How could I possibly have mistaken repeating the same argument over and over very loudly as rehashing an old argument? My bad, truly.”

“…Well there’s no doubt as to where Logan gets his humor, then.”

Logan fought back a snicker as his father rolled his eyes. The action caught Remus’ eyes and he looked over, giving Logan a quick once-over with his eyes before crossing to him. 

“Your back okay?” He asked. 

Logan shifted to raise one shoulder. “Stiff as always.”

Remus frowned and circled to trace a finger down his back. “It wasn’t fresh enough… Rigor mortis had already set in when I used it. I’m sorry, Lolo, you deserve a better back than this.” 

“It’s fine, father, truly.”

“This house doesn’t help,” Roman groused. “Eight foot tall ceilings and he’s practically eight foot three!”

“Uncle please, it’s really fine-”

“Oh don’t you start criticizing him! You’re worse than a haggard old maid!” Remus snapped.

“I’m not criticizing Logan, I’m critiquing you! You who for some reason couldn’t make someone with a more reasonable height!”

Remus gasped and Logan sighed, electing to take his seat rather than continue trying to insist his back was fine. They were more focused on arguing with each other than him, though he got the impression there was no real heat behind it, seeing as they’d had the same twelve arguments fifty times each.

His back was stiff, yes, but it had been stiff all three months of his life so he was more than used to it. Truthfully he thought they were both right. A combination of rigor mortis prior to his animation as well as the cramped apartment they dwelled in would certainly explain the symptoms he experienced. However he was not about to make his father feel any guiltier about the process of his creation or ask to leave the apartment in any way. A simple trip to the market had been all the experiment he needed on that. Apparently his eyes were “freakish” and “wrong.” His father liked them but after that… 

Well… Logan didn’t need to give him another reason to feel bad.

The argument was winding down at least, Father returning to his research and Uncle turning to his own work: writing poems and short stories to sell by the page. Which left Logan to his own work of reading Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Sorrows of Werter. 

He was three more chapters in when his father spoke again.

“I think we ought to go on holiday.” 

Uncle Roman blinked up at him. “…My brother how precisely off your rocker have you fallen?”

“I am not off my rocker at the moment,” Remus huffed. “I think getting out of here would do us some good. We’re all driving one another mad in here and it’s bound to end with one of us killing another and the other two burying or using the grisly remains.”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“And anyway,” Remus continued. “I’m not talking of fleeing to the summer home here. I think we simply have to try again. In an environment more accepting of the bizarre.”

Roman closed his book, staring at Remus incredulously. “You have had… a lot of ideas but this of all of them is certainly-!”

“I was thinking we’d visit Uncle Patton-”

“Uncle Patton?” Roman exclaimed. “Are you completely daft? You won’t let anyone in the family know what you’re doing- Not Romulus or Father- but you’re fine and dandy letting our mother’s elder brother know? What IS going through your head?”

Remus took a deep breath. “…If my son isn’t accepted by a member of his own family… an uncle is easier to cut out of our lives than a brother, or a father…”

Silence hung heavy over the room after that comment. Logan looked down at his hands, reminded once again how… unnatural his very being was. After a few minutes of the thick, deep silence, he heard his uncle sigh.

“Where is our old Uncle Patton nowadays anyway?”

Remus brightened and pulled out a map. “Last I’d heard ol Doctor Van Helsing was starting up a clinic in Whitby! I’ll send him a letter asking if he can put the three of us up; I don’t want to risk an inn.”

Roman nods. “More’s the wiser. Make sure you address the letter correctly this time. Doctor Patton Van Helsing, not Ol’ Uncle Pat.” 

“In all fairness I was only eight when attempting to mail that.” 

Logan let their conversation drift away from him, the words on his page becoming like archaic text as he let his mind wander.

An uncle. Their uncle… Would that make this Doctor Patton his great uncle, then? Or simply another uncle to him? And most importantly… would he care that Logan was sewn together in a lab, rather than formed in any sort of womb?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bad thing is that if you know who "Van Helsing" is then you already know what's up. 
> 
> You also know what's up if you read the tags or talked to me when I first came up with this but that's not important shhhhh.


	3. A Strange Man and a Strange Parcel

Logan’s experience with the world outside was… limited. He’d only been out once, and the results were bad enough to keep his father wary of repeating it. But this time, they made preparations. A low hat to mask his eyes, and the posture his uncle hated to mask his height. Roman had protested profusely, but Remus finally convinced him by promising he could order wine once they were on the train. And that they had a private car so Logan wouldn’t have to endure it for long. 

Logan was also learning a lot about travel. For instance, he was learning that a lot had to be packed into bags. His uncle and father seemed to have packed their entire lives away, all the equipment and almost all the books thrown into bags made of carpet. 

Logan didn’t have much he considered his own, but his uncle had lovingly put his clothing, blankets, and favorite books into a bag just for him. A bag with his initials embroidered just under the clasp in beautiful blue thread. It was one bag to his father and uncle’s twenty, but it meant the world to him. 

He was excited for the train ride, too. He’d read about them, more and more when he found out how they were traveling to Whitby. The fastest mode of transport available, all with the comforts of home and then some. It was going to be fun, and even if it wasn’t, Logan was looking forward to seeing a train and being on one in motion. All the pistons and the wheels and the steam… Perhaps once they got to Whitby he’d have enough information to make a small model! 

Unfortunately… they had to get to Whitby first. Which was proving a challenge. 

“Something about Tuesday,” Father grumbled. “Never had any good luck on a Tuesday.” 

Uncle Roman looked out the carriage window and frowned. “It’s only a crowd, Remus.” 

“It’s bad news,” Father said. “Getting through it is going to be like walking through pea soup. We can’t afford to rush and draw attention but if we take our time we’ll miss the train!”

“You’re worrying too much,” Uncle Roman said. “We’ll be alright, trains always leave a little late anyway.”

“We’d be better if you didn’t have so many bags,” Father groused.

Uncle Roman rolled his eyes. “You have five more bags than I do, dummy. You didn’t have to pack your entire lab.”

“Well you didn’t have to bring your whole wardrobe!”

“Regardless,” Uncle Roman huffed. “We’ll be fine. You’re worrying about nothing.”

The carriage came to a stop and Uncle Roman stepped out, Father following reluctantly. 

“Lo, make sure your hat is on,” He called over his shoulder.

Logan sighed a little as he settled it onto his head. It obscured his vision a little, which was annoying, but supposedly it was worth it. When he finally stepped out, his father and uncle were bickering again, this time over how to transport all the bags. With a sigh, Logan hefted half of them into his arms. 

“Is that better?” He asked.

“We’re supposed to not be drawing attention!” Father groaned. 

“Remus.” Uncle Roman snapped. “At this point you can either get us to go fast or get us under the radar. You are not getting both. And personally I would rather get there on time. So if Logan’s alright- you are alright, yes?”

Logan nodded.

“He’s alright, lets go!” He exclaimed.

Father frowned a little, mustache twitching, but he relented and picked up five of the bags. 

“Alright, alright, let’s go then. Logan, try to stay close.” He instructed.

Logan nodded again and- after pausing to help Uncle Roman with the remaining bags, the three of them set out.

The train station was cramped and crowded, dirty and disgusting. And Logan loved it. It was covered in the dust of travel and the trash of living people, proof that people were there and that each one of them was going someplace different and living a different life. 

One could hardly take a single step without running into another person, but there was an anonymity to the crowd. No one so much as looked at one another if they could help it, and Logan wondered if his hat was even necessary. Nevertheless, he was glad to have it. Because with it, no one could observe his awed expression as he took in the station’s high ceilings, graceful arches, and menagerie of people in bright, intricate travel clothes. His favorite- if he was pressed to pick- was a lady with a purple hat, decorated so much with bright flowers that it almost looked as though there was a garden on her head!

He was enraptured by it and took a step closer, intent to ask her where she had procured it, before remembering his Father’s ruling of staying close. He sighed a little and faced forward again to follow only… He didn’t see his father’s back any more. Or his uncle’s bright red vest. It was as if he had blinked and they were lost to the throng. 

Logan swallowed a little. What was he to do when lost? They never discussed it, thinking it would never happen. Logan was far too smart to get seperated from them. …Normally. This time his curiosity had gotten the better of him. 

He shook his head. Okay okay, what were you supposed to do? What did people in books do? They… 

Right. Stay in place. Wait to be found. 

They also cried, but Logan wasn’t entirely sure what that would achieve or if he was even capable of such a thing. Did Father talk about his tear ducts before? Possibly. He talked about a lot of things. Usually in-depth tangents of where and how he’d gotten Logan’s body parts and how difficult it was to procure such perfect ones. It’s quite possible that he had mentioned Logan’s tear ducts before, but that Logan had tuned him out. That’s hardly something he should be blamed for, though. Who wanted to hear in-depth explanations of how they were born? It was hardly-

“Ay!” A voice behind him shouted. “Not to be rude, but you’re cloggin the traffic!”

Logan turned his head, looking down at the speaker. Before him stood a relatively short man in a black waistcoat and breeches, darkened glasses perched atop his chestnut locks. His accent was thick, possibly American, though Logan had never heard an accent that was neither British or German. He looked up at Logan, tapping his foot and readjusting the brown paper package under his arm. 

“Lad, are ya simple?” He asked. “Or am ah jus’ speakin the wrong tongue?”

Logan blinked. “Oh. My apologies, sir. I got distracted attempting to place your accent.”

The man ‘humphed’ a little, but didn’t seem terribly offended. “Di’n know Brits came this big! Ah’m from Louisville. Big ol’ city from good ol Kentuck.”

“Kentucky?” Logan repeated. 

“Yessir. An’ if yer so inclined, ah’d like ta pass now.” 

“Oh, my apologies again!” Logan shuffled to the side. “I find myself highly distractible, I’m afraid.”

“Ah’d say so.” The man chuckled. “Where’re ya headed?”

“Whitby,” Logan said. “Visiting some distant family.”

“Ah, no kiddin?” The man exclaimed. “Me as well! Ah had ta fetch somethin’ for a friend ‘o mine, but ah’m headed back now. We mus’ be on the same train!”

Logan smiled in a way he hoped didn’t reveal how relieved he felt. “Quite possibly! Would you mind terribly if I followed you to it? I fear I’ve lost my traveling companions.”

“Shoot! Nah, I don’ mind none. Name’s Nate P. Morris. Yours?”

“Logan.” He smiled, falling into step behind th- Nate. “Logan Frankenstien.”

Nate let out a low whistle. “That’s quite’a mouthful. Where’d’ya get a name like that?”

“My father.”

Nate snorted. “Fai’ ‘nough. So what’da these travlin’ folks look like?”

Logan thought a moment. How best to describe his father without making him sound like a rabid animal…

“One has brown hair with a streak of white in the front of it. And a curled mustache that he won’t stop fiddling with. He should be wearing a green vest. The other is his twin and should be in red.” 

Nate raised a brow and scanned the crowd. Eventually, he nodded towards a pair near a train platform that seemed to be arguing. 

“That them?”

Logan peered closer. If he squinted, he could just about make out the distinctive red and green vests his uncle and father had donned that morning. 

“It seems so.” He said.

Nate clapped him on the back. “Good to hear! It’s been a right pleasure meetin’ ya, Logan Frankenstien but ah guess we oughta part ways. See ya in Whitby, maybe?”

“Perhaps.” Logan smiled at him. “Pleasure meeting you as well. Good day, sir.”

“Bye!” Nate said cheerfully, heading off to board the train.

Logan readjusted his own bags and headed in the direction Nate had pointed out. As he approached, the arguing between them gradually became more audible, and it became increasingly clear that these were, in fact, his family members.

“-AND NOW YOU’VE LOST HIM!”

“ME??? I WASN’T IN CHARGE OF HIM!”

“UH, LAST I CHECKED YOU’RE THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE WHOLE MESS AND THEREFORE HIM, TOO!” 

“I’VE NEVER BEEN RESPONSIBLE IN MY LIFE AND YOU KNOW IT!”

“YOU’RE RESPONSIBLE FOR RUINING EVERYTHING AND MAKING MESSES!”

“THAT’S A LOW BLOW! I HARDLY-”

“Are you looking for someone?” Logan interrupted casually. 

Both their heads snapped to him and their faces flooded with relief. 

“Logan!” Uncle Roman exclaimed. “Thank the stars. “Where did you go?”

Logan shrugged. “I got distracted.”

Uncle Roman sighed. “You’re your father’s son, alright. Stick close from now on, alright?”

“Alright. Sorry, Uncle.”

“ALL ABOARD!” Someone called.

“That’s us.” Father said. “You got all the bags, Logan?”

Logan nodded. 

“Good lad. Let’s head on then.” Remus beamed, showing off as many of his teeth as he could. “To Whitby!”


	4. Doctor Patton Van Helsing! We meet at last.

Logan decidedly did not like trains. They were far too fast and far too shaky for his tastes. The world was moving too fast around them to be properly appreciated and they kept offering him drinks that smelled of rotten grapes. 

His father had had several of these drinks throughout the journey and Logan decided he did not like them either. They made people act very silly and Logan didn’t want any part of that. Both because he loathed the idea of acting anything less than as intelligent as he knew he was and because he wasn’t sure he could afford to be silly in the first place due to his… considerable size and strength. It just wasn’t wise. 

As a result, he spent most of the three day trip sitting in a seat and gripping either side of it, fighting off the nausea caused by the world racing past and trying to ignore his father loudly singing songs he didn’t know.

He was extremely grateful to finally arrive in Whitby, still feeling a little green. His uncle pat his arm sympathetically as they gathered their luggage.

“Life on the rails isn’t for everyone,” He said kindly. “Some just take to it better than others.”

“I am not one of them,” Logan replied grouchily. “I would be perfectly content to never experience that again.”

Uncle Roman laughed. “I’m sure. Hopefully we’ll be in Whitby awhile, then.”

Logan grunted in agreement as he hefted up the remaining bags. 

His father, meanwhile, was practically bouncing and running, eager to get going. When they finally did set out it was all Logan and Roman could do to keep up with him! He prattled on and on about previous visits to Whitby and how he’d take Logan all over the place to this and that store and location. 

Gradually, Logan realized… his father was nervous. He was distracting himself and trying to think about anything other than his own uncle’s potential reaction to his son- to Logan, the world’s first artificially born human being. The thought made Logan’s own chest heavy but before he could act on it his thoughts were interrupted by-

“We’re here!” His father said, forcibly cheerful. 

Logan looked over at the building he gestured to. It was reasonably sized- though most things were in comparison to the small apartment and lab the three of them had been living in. It looked for all the world like just a rather large house, plenty of rooms with plenty of windows each, except for the sign hanging above the door that bore the doctor’s symbol and the name “Van Helsing” in scripted pen. 

Logan’s father happily bounced up to the door, Logan and Uncle Roman trundling along behind him with all the bags. 

Father lifted his hand to knock just as the door swung open. In it stood a man with a kind, round face, framed in curls with small glasses perched on his button nose. He had a briefcase in one hand, clearly about to head out, and he was talking to someone inside, clearly not having seen them yet.

Heedless of any of this, Logan’s father embraced him enthusiastically, catching the man off-guard entirely.

“Uncle Patton!” He cheered/

“Remus?” The man- Patton- said incredulously. “My dear boy, whatever are you doing here?”

Uncle Roman cocked his head to one side. “Remus! I thought you sent word ahead!”

Remus pulled back to look over. “I had! But he didn’t respond so I figured that he was either dead or missing so we’d better head over anyway just in case! But he’s not! Hooray!”

Uncle Roman facepalmed. Dr. Patton, however, just looked a little on the pale side.

“Goodness,” He muttered. “Did you send- oh dear. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit preoccupied as of late. I haven’t had the time to check my mail beyond a few urgent people. I- oh no. Oh dear.”

Uncle Roman stepped forward with a polite smile. “We’re terribly sorry if it’s a bad time, Uncle. We just… It’s been so long since we’d last seen you and we found ourselves in a desperate need of a vacation. We can stay in a hotel if it would be preferable to you, and stay out of your hair as much as you need.”

Dr. Patton’s face softened. “Oh… Oh stuff and nonsense! You’re family, of course you can stay here. It’s just… a mite difficult at the moment. I’m in the middle of an urgent situation you see and- oh just come in, come in! I’ll fetch you a spot of tea.”

The two of them shuffled in at Dr. Patton’s request, and Logan followed awkwardly. Why, oh why could no one make doorways taller than seven feet? Ducking was growing tiresome.

Dr. Patton’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Logan.

“Dear Lord in heaven,” He said. “You’re a well-fed fellow, aren’t you? You must be from the country. I’m Doctor Patton Van Helsing, and yourself?”

Logan smiled crookedly. “My name is Logan, sir. And, no I’m no from the country. Just from Bavaria.”

Dr. Patton frowned slightly. “You don’t sound German…”

“…My father is English.” Logan said after a moment. 

“He’s a friend of ours, Uncle.” Uncle Roman covered smoothly. “He doesn’t travel much so we thought we’d let him join. I hope it’s not terribly inconvenient.”

Dr. Patton shrugged and seemed to accept that, ushering them all into the sitting room. 

“Oh, I’ve the space,” he prattled. “Just be sure to keep an eye on one another, I’d prefer no one underfoot nowadays. Besides, times are dangerous and we can’t afford to lose track of one another.”

He cast a nervous glance towards the door before turning back to them with a smile. 

“I’ll go get some rooms ready for you all- um- and ask if my dear friend Mr. Holmwood would mind putting on a cup of tea for my guests?”

A man that Logan hadn’t noticed stepped forward, shaking his head. He was short and portly in stature, but made up for it with an exceptionally tall hat. 

“I don’t mind at all,” He said. “You might warn Mr. Harker that we have company.”

Dr. Patton nodded. “I was planning to do so. Thank you kindly, Mr. Holmwood. I’ll be back down in just a few moments, my nephews!”

With those words and a wave of his hand, Dr. Patton practically flew up the stairs, leaving them with Mr. Holmwood. Mr. Holmwood made no move to start the tea, merely staring at them, gaze repeatedly returning to Logan as he scanned the trio.

Uncle Roman coughed. “He seems a bit frazzled. Are things at the clinic particularly busy right now?”

Mr. Holmwood raised a brow and shrugged. “I suppose that depends on your perspective. There’s only the one patient here, but we’ve been rushing to help another and to kill off the illness before it spreads.”

“Do you help at the clinic, then?” Logan asked.

“Only for this.” Mr. Holmwood said. “I’ve… a personal stake in it.”

They lapsed into silence. Logan wondered idly if he was ever actually going to make tea. 

“What’s your relation to the good doctor, then?” Mr. Holmwood asked. “He called you his nephews, I know, but I haven’t heard him speak of family.” 

Logan’s father smiled. “Well! He’s our mother’s older brother! She met a nice gentleman in Geneva and popped out us and our younger brother, Romulus. She died some years back, but Uncle Patton has always been kind to us!”

“…I’m sorry for your loss.” Mr. Holmwood said awkwardly. 

Father waved it off. “It’s no issue. It’s been years and we’ve kept busy. Roman with his silly scribbles and myself at university.”

“What is it you study?” 

Father faltered some. “Oh, uh. Science mostly. Trying to determine the origins of life…”

“Our family has a great many doctors,” Uncle Roman laughed. “I’ve no interest in the scientific arts, I’m afraid, but my brother could hardly wait to get his hands on all the fancy lab equipment that Ingolstadt provides him! Following in the footsteps of our other, unfortunate family members.”

“More’s the pity.” Mr. Holmwood said with a small smile. 

He turned to Logan, likely to ask him what his area of study was, but at that moment the door knocked. All eyes turned to it.

“…Are you expecting company?” Remus asked. 

“In a sense,” Mr. Holmwood said. 

He crossed to the door and opened it, letting none other than Nate P. Morris step through, brown package still tucked firmly under his arm. 

“Sorry fer the delay, Andy.” He said. “Ah had te cross by the graveyard an’ check up on our… special frien’ there, so ah was a bit delayed.”

“It’s quite alright, Doctor Van Helsin hasn’t left yet,” Mr. Holmwood said. “Tread lightly, though. …We have a bit of company.”

The two looked over, into the sitting room, Nate looking at them all in surprise. 

“Well ah’ll be,” He said. “Mr. Freankstien, waht’re ya doin’ here?”

Father frowned and started to answer but Dr. Patton came down the steps before he could get a word in edgewise. 

“Oh! Mr. Morris, thank goodness. Were you able to find it?”

Nate pat the package. “Jus’ where ya said it’d be, Doc.”

“Excellent!” Dr. Patton turned to them apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry but I’m afraid the three of us need to head out. Your rooms are just up on the next level- the three with open doors- but I must ask you not to enter the two locked doors. Those are the rooms belonging to myself and my current patient. Perhaps I’ll take you to meet him later, but for now simply let him rest. Apart from that you’re welcome to explore my house as you please until I return. I should be back before morning. Farewell!”

He picked up his briefcase and the three of them were gone before the Frankenstiens could comprehend that they were leaving. 

“…Well,” Father said. “That was… a welcome. I think.”

“He’s probably just busy,” Uncle Roman mused. “He wasn’t expecting us, after all.”

“Which is his own fault.” Father pointed out. 

“I suppose…” Uncle Roman exhaled forcefully. “Alright. Let’s go find our bedrooms.”


	5. Curiouser Yet Curiouser

If Logan had to be grateful for one thing alone, it would be that the ceilings of Dr. Van-Helsing’s practice were higher than that of the home he’d been thus far raised in. By other standards they were, perhaps, unnecessarily so, but Logan enjoyed finally having the ability to stand to his full height without fear of hitting his head. 

If he could pick another thing to be grateful for it was that the bed in his given room was much softer than his previous one. In truth, his bed back home was more of a refurbished table with cushions than it was a bed. He had never minded before and he was not going to start now, but he was enjoying having more than two inches of give beneath him as he rested. 

However this… “vacation” was not without its drawbacks. For one, beds were no more made for Logan than ceilings were, and his feet hung some ways off the end of the bed. A minor inconvenience, nothing more, just like the way his great-uncle’s company (for he’d asked and Dr. Patton was indeed his great-uncle) had forced him to keep his darkened glasses on until further notice. No one seemed to find it unusual, partly due to the fact that Mr. Nate also seemed attached to his dark lenses and partially due to the fact that they seemed to be avoiding the Frankenstiens as much as they could!

Everyone was acting… strange. They were out together all hours of the night, talking in hushed whispers, occasionally ducking into the room Dr. Patton had said the patient was in. They were often joined by another man, some doctor of sorts Logan learned, and the four of them seemed to make some kind of secret unit made specifically to talk in whispers and tell no one what they were up to. 

Dr. Patton did try to have mid-afternoon tea with his nephews each day but… Logan wasn’t invited to those. Father said that he was acting shifty and “weird” and that he wasn’t certain coming forward about Logan’s origins was the greatest of ideas. At least not until whatever it was that was going on had settled somewhat. 

So, every day at four o’clock, Logan was left to his own devices. Normally he’d read but today, for some reason he felt… restless. Penned in. They’d come to Whitby to let him escape seeing the same four walls and yet here he was. 

With a huff that was almost like a sigh, he decided to leave his room and journeyed downstairs. His family was in the study having tea so he couldn’t go there under the guise of new reading material. There was nothing of interest in the dining room and he hadn’t an idea how to cook so the kitchen was out as well. Which only left…

Logan pushed open the back door and ducked through. A bright, crisp green met his eyes and he let out a soft gasp. A garden. A medicinal garden but a beautiful, blossoming garden nonetheless. It was full to bursting with all manner of herbs, mint and thyme and sage, and facing towards them was bush after bush of whymsical lavender. Crowning this garden was a wonderful wisteria tree, her great branches leaning over to tickle the ground. It was beautiful and breathtaking. Logan had never seen so many different shades of green in his three and a half months of life! 

The sun was warm and the sky cloudless. Perfect for wandering about a garden. 

Logan raced back in for a notebook and raced back out, quick as a lightning flash. He began walking along the rows of plants, noting them and some of their uses, sketching when he could, though his fingers weren’t suited for it. He was just past all the herbs when he noticed something strange. 

“Garlic?” He inquired of the open air. “And so much of it… whoever would need this much garlic?”

“Are you new here?” 

Logan startled and looked for the source of the voice. 

“Up here,” The voice chuckled some. 

Logan looked up, taking a few moments before he spotted the open window and the young man leaning out of it. 

“My apologies sir,” He said politely. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You did a wonderful job for something unintentional,” Logan chuckled, pocketing his notebook. “But you are, of course, forgiven. To answer your question, yes, I am new here. I am vacationing with my f- friends. Doctor Van Helsing is their uncle, leading us to stay here rather than an inn.”

The stranger hummed a little. “I see. There are not many sights worth seeing in these parts, I’m afraid. Whitby has grown more dreary than it was in my youth.”

“A pity, I’m sure.” Logan said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “But there are things of beauty around each corner if you know where to look. Why just the plants in this garden are brimming with it!”

“Are you a botanist, then?” The man above teased. “One who believes plants the highest of beauties?”

“I am not such,” Logan said shyly. “I am merely a student of the world, finding something beautiful in all created things. Natural or not. I think everything has something to offer, be it a purpose or joy.”

“I see. And which do you think that you offer, sir?”

Logan hesitated. “…I don’t know yet. I haven’t discovered that. I have faith that I shall, though. In time.”

“Time reveals and hides all things, after all.” The man in the window took a deep breath, falling quiet. 

“…Are you Dr. Van Helsing’s patient? The one he won’t let his guests see?” Logan asked hesitantly.

The man snorted. “I am. Though I don’t know why it is I can’t see his visitors. I may be weakened but I’m hardly going to die of shock from the sight of a new human being.”

Logan chuckled some at that. “No, I suppose not. What is your name, good sir?”

“Virgil Harker. And yourself?”

“Logan Fran- erm,” He faltered. 

“Logan Fran-erm?” 

Logan waved a hand. “My apologies. I thought I… saw a bee. Logan Frank is my name, sir.”

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you, Logan Frank.” Virgil said to him. “I daresay this is the best conversation I’ve had in weeks.”

“Is it that terribly cooped up in there?” Logan asked. 

“Oh it isn’t so terrible.” Virgil said. “I am ill, so I sleep most of the time. But all the topics of all the conversations I’ve had since falling ill have been quite dreary. I’m glad to have relief from them.”

“Are you that terribly ill, then?” Logan asked, startled. 

“Not quite.” Virgil answered tiredly. “It’s merely that the cause of my illness cannot be rooted out and so I find myself unable to become fully recovered. I know that the good doctor is working on it, though, for which I am grateful. It’s just… well meaningly stifling.”

Logan thought of his own family’s overprotectiveness of him. Of day after day being kept in the same room so that no one hurt him out of fear…

“I think I can understand such feelings,” Logan said. “Even when they are with the best of intentions.”

“Even when going against them would almost certainly mean something awful.” Virgil agrees.

“It’s still… suffocating.” Logan looked away from Virgil, out towards the street beyond the garden and even beyond that towards where he knew the train station lie.

He heard Virgil take a deep breath and his eyes snapped back towards the other man’s indistinct figure. 

“I think I shall retire now, I’ve grown weary yet again,” He said, sounding annoyed with whatever was making him so fatigued. “I should like to chat with you again sometime, Mr. Frank. Perhaps the next time you are in the garden I will be granted a little more strength.”

Logan smiled. “I would like that very much, sir. It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Much the same to you. Farewell!” 

He waved a little to Logan and drew his window shut. Logan silently wished him all the best and headed back inside. Teatime was almost over, after all. He could finish his notations the next day.

He almost ran into Dr. Patton on his way back up the stairs. 

“Oh!” the doctor exclaimed. “Oh pardon me, dear boy, I was just- um- I was putting my teacup away. Very sorry. Farewell!”

He scurried away, barely giving Logan time to process that he had not been holding a teacup. Father marched along a short time after.

“There’s something fishy going on here.” He growled. “Something absolutely batty!”

“We can hardly blame them for keeping secrets from us,” Uncle Roman said, walking up much more calmly. “Not when we’ve got one of our own.”

Their eyes moved hesitantly to Logan and he shifted on his feet. All at once he became very aware of the space he was occupying and the mass he was taking up. 

“Perhaps you ought to talk to him?” Logan suggested. “Come clean and hope that he does as well?”

“A good thought but there’s no time for it now,” Father huffed. “He’s gone off to who-knows-where again. Logan I swear if you, as you age, ever have a phase in which you sneak off to strange places with strange companions, I will be replacing your eyeballs while you are conscious!”

“Noted,” Logan said, not so much as blinking at the now-common exclamation. “I will endeavor not to drive you mad.”

Father nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

“You’re half there already,” Uncle Roman quipped. “It would hardly be a long carriage drive.”

“Oh you shut up!” Father snapped. “Come on. Why don’t we raid the library and see if we can puzzle this out for ourselves?”

Uncle Roman sighed. “It’s as good a plan as any.”

Father cheered and the three of them headed back into the study to see what was making Doctor Van Helsing act so strangely. …And possibly to see if the absurd amount of garlic in his garden was in any way connected to it.


	6. The Odd Silver Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone in this thread watch Lion Tales?

Father threw a book down in a huff. “Nothing here either!” 

“What is it we’re looking for, again?” Uncle Roman asked. 

“I don’t know!” Father said. “Just anything that will explain everyone acting all weird around here!” 

“Maybe they are just looking for a cure for whatever ails their patient?” Logan suggested. 

“Maybe. But if that’s the case why are his assistants an asylum doctor, a gardner, and an American?” Father asked. 

Uncle Roman raised a brow. “…Is being an American an occupation now?”

“From what I hear it’s as stressful as one.” Logan said. 

Father let out an aggravated sigh and flopped backwards, staring up at the ceiling angrily. “Whatever it is that he does it hardly seems in line with Uncle Patton’s medical practice. The asylum doctor is the only one that even remotely makes sense. But paired up with the others all sense it makes goes BYE BYE! Right out the window.”

“Maybe they’re all dating. Or taking one another to a secret rendezvous to meet the one’s they’re courting.” Uncle Roman suggested. 

“I don’t think so.” Logan said. “I think they’re just the patient’s friends. I spoke with the man earlier and he seemed… tired. I think they’re just his friends and want to help as best they can.”

“He keeps strange company, then.” Father groused. 

Uncle Roman snorted. “No stranger than you.” 

Father kicked him half-heartedly then rose to his feet. “Alright. I suppose there’s no answers to be found here.” 

He started to leave, only to have Uncle Roman snag the back of his tunic and scold him about picking up. A task that Logan had already started on. He was reshelving books on flora when something caught his eye. It was a slender green book with gold lettering, a silver head of garlic stamped into the top of the spine. 

“Defensive Uses of Garlic,” He murmured. 

Curious, he set the books in his arms down and tried to remove that one. Tried being the key word. 

As he started to remove it, something clicked and the entire bookshelf swiveled open, revealing a stone staircase leading down. Logan stared at it before turning to look at his family.

“I found something.” He said, dumbfounded. 

The two of them came over and Father let out a low whistle. 

“You sure did, Logie.” He laughed. “Knew I picked good eyes. Did I ever tell you how I found them? It was-”

“Not the time Remus.” Uncle Roman said, leaning into the staircase a little. “…Would this count as an invasion of privacy?”

“Maybe!” Father said, chipperly, stepping in. “But I want answers. And we aren’t going to get any holed up in the library. So… Onwards and downwards?”

Logan hesitated, one foot half on the stairs already and the other firmly on the carpet of the library floor. Technically speaking… this was an invasion of privacy, wasn’t it? Great Uncle Patton was allowed to keep whatever hidden rooms he wanted and he didn’t owe them a single answer. But on the other hand… Part of Logan burned to know what was going on. What was really going on. He wanted to know so badly that if he didn’t he was pretty sure he’d come apart at the perfectly-stitched seams. Was that nature, something ingrained in all his parts? Or was it the nurture of his family at work, both his uncle and father burning with different curiosities of their own? Who could say for certain? All Logan knew was that he was going down there. He had to. 

He stepped next to his father, ducking a little because of the low ceiling. They shared a nod and looked back at Uncle Roman. He sighed so heavily that Logan was sure it took all the air in his lungs. 

“Fine,” he said. “Someone has to make sure that the two of you don’t set yourselves on fire.”

They beamed and turned back down the staircase. 

“Onwards and downwards!”

***

The staircase wound down down down. Dark and dank and filled with the scent of mold. Logan faintly wondered how something so sealed off like this could have gotten wet enough to harbor the mold he was smelling. 

At the forefront of his mind, however, was concern over how dark it was getting. Once the light from the entrance had faded his Father had pulled the matches out of his vest pocket, which Uncle Roman had questioned the existence of, but it allowed them to find an actual lantern lying on one of the stairs. However, there was some kind of draft in the stairwell determined to blow out the lantern, no matter how many times Father relit it. Logan was sure that at any moment they were going to run out of matches and be plunged into darkness with nowhere to go but down. 

Not that Logan was scared of the dark! Not at all! …But the combination of darkness and the cramped quarters was beginning to accelerate his heart rate. 

If he could only just… extend his neck. Just a little. A single vertebrae. Or move his shoulders even a fraction without hitting his family. If only he could bolt up the stairs and take it all back. If only-

“Oooo! What’s this?”

Logan looked up to see what his Father was talking about. At long last, they’d reached the bottom of the stairs. And at the bottom stood a large dark door, likely made of solid oak. But the oddest thing about it was the decorations. 

“Is that real silver?” Uncle Roman asked, stepping closer to investigate. “It is! Who uses real silver to decorate a door to a secret basement?”

“They’re not even good decorations,” Father groused. “Just some communion wafers and a big crucifix. It doesn’t even have one of those funky Jesus bodies on it! Who designed this thing?”

“Just because there’s no nudity-”

“Well you have to admit that would make it more interesting!”

“No because-”

They started arguing so Logan took the opportunity to get closer to the door himself. The ceiling was thankfully a bit higher there, so he had more room to move. The silver was, indeed, real. It decorated the door in intricate holy symbols, seemingly any that the maker could think of. They were cluttered together unattractively, that much was true, as if the one who made it had other things on their minds. A purpose beyond looks. 

Logan knelt down to the doorknob. It too, was made of pure silver, with a ringed cross engraved into it with all the care of someone tending a garden. Though it wasn’t perfect, seeing as there was a break in the circle. No… hold on…

“Father,” He called. “Could I have the light?”

The two snapped from their argument and walked over to his side. Father lowered the light to illuminate the knob and Logan took a sharp breath.

“There’s blood in the handle.” He said shakily. “Someone was bleeding when they closed it.” 

“Oooo fun!” Father said, leaning closer himself. “So it’s not our Uncle’s funky sex dungeon, then?”

“FATHER!” 

“Whaaat?”

“Just shut up.” Uncle Roman said, squeezing his eyes shut. “I do not want to think about that.”

Father laughed. “Alright, alright. I guess it doesn’t make sense to put a bunch of holy stuff on that kind of thing anyway. So what is it? And more importantly, is there a key?”

Logan glanced under the knob. “It doesn’t look like there’s a lock.”

“Great!”

Father reached out and turned the handle, but it didn’t budge. He frowned. 

“Well that’s a let down.” He said. 

“Here!” Uncle Roman pointed to a key on a hook nearby. 

He crossed to it and lifted it off the hook. He weighed the key in one hand and lifted it to his eyes. 

“…This is silver too.” He said. “All the way through, it looks like.”

“How’s Uncle Pat affording all this shmancy stuff?” Father wondered. “I didn’t think doctors made THAT much!”

“It is one of the more profitable careers,” Logan shrugged. “And it isn’t as though he has any children to spend it on.”

“He has two nephews that could use some of it.”

Uncle Roman swatted Father on the arm. “Shut up.”

Logan rolled his eyes and looked back to the door. “So… All we’re missing is the keyhole.”

“It’s probably hidden,” Father said. “I know I’d hide it if I went through all this trouble. Plus if the key is so clearly not hidden then the place where it goes must be, right?”

Logan nodded. “But how do you hide a keyhole and still make it functional?”

“In plain sight.” Uncle Roman breathed. 

He came back over to the door and looked over the decorations scrutinizingly. Carefully, he reached out and gripped the crucifix in the middle. With a deep breath, he swung it upwards, revealing a small keyhole beneath it.

“Brilliant!” Father crowed.

“Me or the design?” Uncle Roman asked wryly. 

“Both.” Logan assured him.

“Sure.” Father agreed. “Now stick that baby in and let’s see what’s inside!”

Uncle Roman shook his head, but inserted the key. It took some jiggling, but sure enough they heard a click. Father’s grin grew manic and he laid a hand on the knob. 

“Everyone ready?” 

Logan and Uncle Roman nodded, Uncle Roman slipping the key into his pocket. Father winked at them. And turned the knob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy! So first of all, I'm sorry about the sudden barrage of chapters. I realized that I hadn't actually updated this on Ao3 in a while so I'm catching it up to where it's at on my tumblr.  
> Second of all, I don't normally like to do this but I'm going to have to take a short hiatus to help my sister with her upcoming wedding. It's not too far off so I should resume updates near the end of June but I need a short break til then.  
> Thank you so much for your ongoing support and if you like my writing please check out the Blood Guts and Gore au, which I will still be writing with my co-author, Izzy!


	7. And What Was Behind It

The door opened with an appropriately terrifying creak that sent shivers up Logan’s spine. Father led the way into the room, poking his head through before letting the rest of himself follow. 

“Don’t see what’s so bad in here,” He called back to them. “It’s just a room with a box.” 

Logan exchanged a shrug with his uncle before the two of them followed Father into the room. It was, indeed, just a room with a box in it. A big box sitting on a table just long enough to accommodate it. Because honestly it was a very big, long box. Why, it could fit a whole-

Oh.

“Father that’s a coffin.”

Uncle Roman yelped and leaped backwards towards the door. Father, however, leaned in curiously. 

“Ooooo! I knew our old uncle had skeletons in his closet but a coffin in the basement! Now that’s a new one!”

“Why would he have that?” Uncle Roman exclaimed. “He’s a sweet, doddering old man, why would he have a coffin in his basement?”

“I don’t think he’s doddering,” Father said, stepping closer to the coffin. 

Father’s eyes lit up and he drew closer still, scooping something up off of the lid. In his hand, dangled a small golden cross, hanging from a delicate golden chain.

“Now now now, what have we here?” Father crowed softly. “More religious junk… But placed right here. On the lid.”

“It could have been dropped there by accident,” Uncle Roman said. 

Father cast him a dubious look and walked over to Logan. “Sonny boy, tell me what YOU see here.”

Logan squinted at it, ducking a little to see better in the low light.

“...It’s a necklace?”

“Exactly. And remind me where necklaces go on the human body?”

“The neck?”

Father smiled and pat his head, like Roman was a school boy he was particularly fond of. “Very good! And if you’ll look close you’ll see that the chain is utterly unbroken. Meaning that it’s almost impossible for it to have been simply dropped on the coffin lid. No, no, me familia. This. Was deliberate.”

Uncle Roman huffed. “Okay fine, point proven. But what does that mean?”

Father grinned gleefully and held the chain higher, cross at eye level. “No idea! But it sure is bonkers, huh?”

Uncle Roman practically growled, apparently less amused. Logan took the opportunity to look anywhere but where an argument was about to break out. 

His eyes landed on a bouquet, and he brushed past his father to get a better look. They didn’t look like flowers… He sniffed. 

Garlic? That was hardly a traditional mourning plant. And now that he was looking, it wasn’t the only bouquet.There were five of them, all fresh. They were dotted around the room in a semicircle, almost forming a barricade around the coffin. As if it was keeping something out. 

...or in.

Logan eyed the coffin and took a hesitant step back. “Father? I think you ought to put it back.”

“What?” His father asked, incredulously. “Why? I mean, I wasn’t planning on stealing it, I just-”

“Father please, I think we ought to put things back where they were.” 

“...You okay, logan?” Uncle Roman asked.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch, munchkin?”

“I just- I’m a little concerned,” Logan stammered. “Religious imagery, a coffin, garlic everywhere. A patient complaining of fatigue. I- There’s stories about things like this. But I don’t- It doesn’t- they can’t be-”

“Logan,” His father said slowly, and from the corner of his eye, logan could see him lower the necklace. “What are you saying?”

Logan gulped. “I’m saying… I’m not the only thing in this room raised from the dead.”

As if on cue, a loud BANG sounded from inside the coffin. 

BANG. BANG. BANG. Again and again against the lids as whatever was inside fought to get out. A low hissing sound reached their ears, followed by another BANG. BANG. BANG!

“Putitbackputitbackputitback-” Uncle roman said, terrified.

“IamIamIamIamIam-” Father said, equally scared.

He sprinted over, intent on slamming the necklace back down onto the lid, only to have said lid spring open in his face. Father paled. The creature- some facsimile of a human with too many teeth shoved into its mouth- hissed at him. 

“Hi.” Father said meekly.

Without another word, he shoved the necklace into the devil’s hands and sprinted away. The being shrieked, as if in pain. It tried to fling the necklace away from itself, playing hot potato in a way that might have been funny in any other scenario. There wasn’t much time. It wouldn’t be distracted for long. Logan wanted to believe the best in it, but everything in his being was screaming to get away, far away.

Perhaps that’s how others felt when they looked at his eyes.

As soon as his father was in range, Logan scooped both him and his uncle into his arms and ran out the door as fast as his unnaturally long legs could carry him. He heard the creature hiss yet again but didn’t slow. He didn’t even breathe until they were across the threshold, and even then he only paused to throw uncle Roman over his shoulder, slam the door shut, relock it, and sprint back up the stairs, key still clutched in the hand bracing his uncle.

He all but collapsed to the floor, letting them both down so he could brace himself against a bookshelf. 

“Are… you… okay?” he asked his father between gasps.

“ME?” Father exclaimed. “I’m not the one who marathoned up who-knows-how-many flights of stairs just now! Logan you know you’re not allowed to drop dead, I can’t find another heart and brain in good condition!”

“S-sorry.” Logan panted. “Jus’ had to ge-get you both ou-out.”

“What was that?” Uncle Roman asked, staring down the stairs as if the creature would leap out. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before…”

“I have,” Logan said, trying to right himself and still struggling to catch his breath. “Though I don-don’t know exactly what it is. There’s legends. Myths. About cre-creatures like that.”

Uncle Roman shivered. “More like ghost stories…”

Father clapped his hands together. “So! Next question. Do we wait here for Uncle Pat or take ourselves to him? Cause believe you me, I’ve got more questions now than I do answers and I’d like to reverse that.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.” Logan said. “I think we ought to go to him once I catch my breath. ...Maybe we’ll be able to build good faith by telling him where I truly came from.”

Father softened a little, eyes looking a bit sad. 

“Yes,” He murmured. “Maybe… So! Onwards and upwards then?”

“Or perhaps, you had all better sit down and tell me why you felt the need to investigate my personal belongings.”

The temperature of the room dropped at the sound of Doctor Patton’s voice. He stepped out from behind a bookshelf and Logan felt pinned under his disappointed gaze.

“Uncle!” Father laughed nervously. “What- uhhhh- what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, Remus,” Patton said cooly. “Seeing as it’s my library.”

Logan hunched his shoulders up until they touched his ears, feeling embarrassed and scared all at once. Was this how it felt to be genuinely in trouble? No wonder it was universally despised.

“We just- everyone was acting so strangely, uncle,” Uncle Roman tried.

“Yeah, we just wanted some answers! And we weren’t getting any out of you!” 

Great Uncle Patton frowned at Father disapprovingly. “So instead you break into my crypt?”

“That’s a crypt?” Father exclaimed. “We thought it was a freaky basement! Although…” Father stroked his mustache. “Now that we’ve seen what’s down there I just want to put it on the record that if that’s what you’re into I’m not judging. I think rigor mortis will give you a real hard time but, yunno, whatever gets the blood flowing at your age.”

Uncle Roman and Logan slapped their own faces in unison and so were spared the sight of Doctor Van Helsing slowly going red and gaping like a fish. 

“Remus Frankenstien! How dare you!” He shrieked indignantly.

“Please forgive my brother, he traded his sense of decency for a faster brain and now he lets it run away with him.

Logan lowered his hand a little. Patton was huffing and puffing, thoroughly incensed. He looked a bit like a puffed up cat this way…

Eventually he took a long, deep, breath. “At least tell me you didn’t take the crucifix.”

“Oh we did, but I gave it back.” Father said cheerfully.

Dr. Patton removed his glasses and massaged his nose for a few moments. 

“Right then,” He said, with an air of finality. “I guess it’s high time we talked.”

“Oh, we’re well past that, I’d say,” Uncle Roman said, crossing his arms. “...But I’ll tell you what. You aren’t the only one with secrets. Tell us yours and we’ll tell you ours. And we’ll clean up our mess to boot.”

Dr. Patton fixed him with a stare. A stare that searched Uncle Roman’s face and seemed to scrutinize his every thought. 

“...Okay.” He said finally. “But I’m going to need that key, young man.”

Logan held out the hand holding it, holding the other up in surrender. 

“Take it! By all means.”

Patton accepted it with a small nod, took a deep breath, and beckoned for them to follow him.

“If we’re all spilling the beans, then I think that all needs to be all encompassing. This is more than just a family matter, after all.”


	8. Un-Uncomfortable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest, I don’t think this is my best chapter, but I got stuck and wrote it yesterday just cause I knew the scene I wanted to happen so YEET!

Logan didn’t mind being young. Not really. Sure, there were lots of things he didn’t know but that just meant there was lots to learn. He was in the unique position of being a new mind with the facilities of an old one. 

However.

It had drawbacks, too. Primarily being that his father didn’t want him involved in the fight against Dracula. Something about Logan being a lot of work and not wanting his masterpiece destroyed- which Uncle Roman roughly translated into Father not wanting Logan in harm's way out of love. Which was sweet and all but incredibly frustrating.

Which meant that Logan was metaphorically on the bench and literally sitting on one in the garden, under the wisteria. And he was absolutely not pouting, thank you very much. He was… contemplating. Grumpily. And reading, though the book in front of him kept stubbornly refusing to be read, meaning he kept rereading the same paragraph twenty times and intaking none of it. 

He frowned at the book as he realized this, and shut it with a small sigh. Instead, he cast his gaze out, through the garden and towards the bay- or what sliver he could see of it over the wall of the garden. The water looked gray and bleak, with the softest stirrings of blue deep beneath it. 

...He’d never felt an ocean before. Granted, there were many things he’d never felt before, but… there was something about the lapping of the waves that he wanted to experience. The poems and books he’d read on it made it seem so peaceful. As if going there could be some kind of emotional, calming reset. He’d like to try it. Maybe he could! Since no one would let him help with the bigger issues. 

He huffed again. 

“Sounds like you’re a bit peeved.” A voice said.

Logan turned to see Virgil cautiously hobbling up the path to him. 

Logan gave him a concerned look. “Do you require assistance?”

Virgil waved him off. “Nah, I’m just slow. I’ll get there.”

Logan nodded and sat back on the bench. He waited while Virgil came up, panting a bit as he sat next to Logan under the wisteria. 

“So what brings you out here?” Virgil asked, breathing a little heavily but otherwise seeming alright. “Are you just… brooding?”

“...I’m not a chicken,” Logan said. “Nor do I have any chicks. Brooding would be very difficult for one such as me.”

Virgil snorted a little. “Brooding also means thinking deep, dark thoughts all by yourself. Is that what you’re doing?”

Logan made note of the definition and took a moment to think. 

“I don’t think my thoughts are particularly dark,” He said finally. “I will admit to being… disgruntled at being left out, however.”

Virgil nodded amicably. “I get that. You’d probably be able to help a lot, too. Strong and smart.”

Logan laughed a little. “I suppose. Or maybe I’m just being petulant.”

“You’re allowed to be petulant,” Virgil said. “You’re young. And even if you weren’t you’d be allowed a bit of petulant emotions. After all, you’re human, aren’t you?”

“That’s an interesting question, I think,” Logan said. “I think- technically speaking- I’m some form of undead, myself. Being made of different parts of corpses, after all. They were all humans themselves, but does that make me human? What part is even me? The sum or the parts? What makes someone human?”

“...That was dark even for me,” Virgil said after a bit of pause. “Normally I’m all about the macabre contemplation of what makes life but… dandy fellow you have a lot going on in that mind, don’t you?”

Logan chuckled darkly. “Yes… I suppose I do. But I have a lot to contemplate.”

Virgil hums softly. “...They won’t let me help, either. Something about being the food source for our favorite vampire.”

“It does seem to take a lot out of you.”

Virgil waved a hand, dismissively. “I’ve lived with this exhaustion much longer than Remy’s been a vampire. Practically as long as I’ve been an adult, really. Maybe longer. My late fiance joked that I should count myself lucky to be among the idle rich. Since I’m often unable to do anything but be idle.”

Logan paused for a moment, intaking the information. “So… they are overprotective of you?”

Virgil nods. “They don’t mean to. And I’ll admit that I’ve gotten worse from having Remy feed off me. But it’s still…”

“Stifling.” Logan finished for him. “I understand that. The feeling of knowing that their fears aren’t ungrounded but wanting to shirk them all the same.”

“And knowing you could do so much more,” Virgil said softly. 

“If only you weren’t held back by them and the reason that they hold you back.” Logan finished, just as quiet. 

They sat there for a moment, in silence. It felt- a bit- like the garden was waiting for something. As if it felt sorry for them and was waiting for the air to change. ...Or maybe that was just Logan. 

He took a deep breath. “Do you miss your fiance?”

Virgil shrugged. “Partially. It was a bit of a marriage of convenience and a bit of us liking one another. There was nothing really romantic about it and… when I look backwards there was nothing really healthy about it either. And yet… I can’t help but miss them. They made me laugh. There were times they made me happy. We took care of each other. ...Even if sometimes we hurt each other. They didn’t deserve what they got.”

“...I’d offer condolences but I feel they’d ring hollow. So… I will simply say that however mixed your feelings are, they are valid feelings. You are not obligated to miss someone that was bad for you, but it’s alright if you do.”

Virgil stared at him for a few moments. “...How is it that someone who hasn’t even been alive a whole year is wiser than anyone I’ve ever met?”

Logan shrugged a little, himself. “I read a lot.”

Virgil snorted. An ungraceful but… rather adorable sound. 

“I could read all the books in the world and not think of comfort like that,” He said. “...Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“...Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I asked you one. It’s only fair.”

“Why do you wear those darkened glasses?”

Ah. He had to ask that. 

Logan shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “...There’s many parts of me that are uncomfortable to look at. My eyes are the only one that can’t be hidden by clothing.”

He watched Virgil frown in the corner of his vision. “I don’t think you’re uncomfortable to look at.”

“You haven’t seen all of me,” Logan pointed out. “The parts that I keep hidden so that you think precisely that.”

“...Then show me,” Virgil said simply.

“P- Pardon me?” Logan stammered, aghast. 

“Oh nothing like that,” Virgil huffed irritably. “I just mean… if you’re so convinced that you’re uncomfortable to look at, give me a chance to prove you wrong. Let me see those eyes of yours.”

Logan stared at him, once again irrationally feeling like the garden was holding its breath.

“...What if I’m right?” He asked, voice small and quiet, barely daring to speak at all and break whatever trance that has befallen their bubble of the world.

“Then… I’ll make an argument to the others for you joining them,” Virgil says. “I was already going to fight that but if you’re right about my reaction I’ll leave myself out of it and agree to stay behind.”

Logan blinked. “You’d do that? ...For me?”

“Of course.” Virgil said- as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

Logan considered this for a moment. Considered everything that had happened between them so far and everything that had happened in his life as a whole. ...Was this what friendship was? Logan wasn’t sure about the premise or qualifications it involved. But he was pretty sure… no he was decently sure that’s what this was.

Slowly… Logan raised his hands and removed his glasses. He squinted a little at the sudden removal of dark tint and waited for his eyes to adjust. Slowly, he turned to Virgil, letting him intake Logan’s eyes as much as he wanted.

Virgil gazed at him- at his eyes- for a long time. But Logan didn’t feel pinned. He didn’t feel judged. He just felt like he was being looked at. By a friend. 

After what felt like a long time and no time at all, Virgil reached up and cupped Logan’s cheeks with either hand. The gently brought Logan’s forehead down to meet his own, still looking at the eyes Logan knew to be horrific. He didn’t say anything, at first, just staring as close as he could.

“...I don’t think that’s uncomfortable at all,” He said quietly. “In fact… your eyes are kind of gorgeous in a bit of a sideways way.”

Logan paused. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well… If I cared too much about what most people think should be beautiful then I guess I’d hate them,” Virgil explained. “But… I never really have. It’s the same kind of beauty that blood on snow has. Possibly gross to think of for too long but… the contrast is undeniably wonderful.”

Logan huffs a soft laugh. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not. I like your eyes, Logan.”

“...Thank you.” 

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s hard to.”

“Then I’ll try and remind you when I can.”

“...I can try to let you.”

“That’s all I ask.” Virgil smiles a little and lets go of his face. “...Would you help me inside? I’m… kind of worn out.” 

“Of course,” Logan said, rising. “...Thank you, Virgil.”

“You’re very welcome.”

...Logan didn’t put his glasses back on.


End file.
